Anne has graciously agreed to send me monthly updates on her shenanigans and adventures which I’m delighted to share with you today.

And so, without further ado, let me hand you over to Anne…..

Cowsitting In Ireland:

It’s exactly three years and eight months since I first arrived in Ireland and in the last month I helped cow-sit eight cows for ten days, met a foal, saw a calf be born and now have five donkey friends who come running whenever they see me coming.

I brought a bucket of feed down to the field where the cows we were caring for graze and discovered, to my horror, that the feed the Irishman had left in the trough the day before was still there. I tried to call him. Several times. I texted him. “I’m worried about the cows. They didn’t eat their feed yesterday. What if they are hurt or lost?”

We had been cowsitting for exactly one day

and already we lost the cows!!!???!?

What is cow protocol in these sorts of circumstances?

Do I put on my wellies and go looking for them?

Ask the neighbors if they’ve seen them?

Call the cow owner and ‘fess up?

I decided to do none of the above and sat in the car hoping they might show up. They didn’t.

I talked to the Irishman. He said they’d be fine. I wasn’t so sure. He said we’d look for them later. I felt a terrible sense of cow guilt.

The next day the Irishman asked our neighbor if he’d seen the missing cows and he said he had. The Irishman asked how far back the land goes and the neighbor said “until the next land.”

Then the Irishman said the cows hadn’t eaten the feed we left for them. Our neighbor said they’d eat when they were hungry enough.

We then went to the field and spied the cows. I started calling them, “Come on cows.” They weren’t budging.

I asked the Irishman, “How do you call cows?”

He said, “Let me try them on the cell. What’s their number?”

The Irishman walked out into the field and got them moving to where their feed was, calling them in some language I don’t understand, but apparently the cows did.

Cow Poop Lessons:

The next day, my daughter Facetimed me during her visit with my mom and sister while I happened to be about to feed the cows. I showed them on Facetime the view of the bay, the trough full of feed and the genuine cow poop everywhere.

My mother said with great authority that they used to burn cow poop for fuel in Ireland and my daughter asked me if that was true.

I didn’t know so I asked the Irishman and he said my mother was right and then offered to send her some.

A Good Friday Pilgrimage to Mamean Mountain:

We went to Clifden and passed a thin white-haired man cutting turf by hand in the bogs using a sleán – Irish for spade – as they have for hundreds of years.

On Good Friday, we took friends to climb Mamean Mountain – thought to be the last place St. Patrick visited – where the priest was leading the stations of the cross.

There were a couple of hundred people who made the hour-long climb to the top while a group of volunteer mountain rescuers sat at the foot of the mount.

The small church at the summit was open and inside was a tiny altar made of Connemara marble with matching Connemara marble candlesticks.

I also found out that a horse in our village had given birth to a foal on Good Friday and that it had been named Jesus Christ.

Easter Reunions And Wise Old Words:

Over the Easter weekend, we went to the local pub for a drink and the fire was going and it was lovely.

There were 10 men lined up at the bar. I only knew one. When we left the Irishman bumped into someone he had worked with in England 40 years ago.

He told the Irishman, “I will never forget what you said….

‘You never have to worry about

getting lost twice in the same place

if you don’t get lost on the first place.’

The Irishman wondered, “Why would he remember that for 40 years?” “He must have thought you were wise beyond your years,” I said.

Making Boxty:

I made boxty. There is an old Irish rhyme that goes,

“Boxty on the griddle.

Boxty on the pan.

If you can’t make boxty,

you’ll never get a man.”

Maybe that’s been my problem.

Irish Life:

In the same day, I saw a story in the Galway paper about Connemara Bog Week a festival celebrating the bogs; I watched a video on Facebook encouraging people to do fundraisers for the Lifeboat Fund by organizing Wellie Walks or a Wear Your Wellies to Work Day; and I witnessed the men coming into the pier bringing in baskets of oysters from their boats.

It’s funny how when you ask people here how they are, they don’t say good. They say not too bad. As if saying you’re good is bragging or having notions.

Spring is a harbinger of new beginnings. And also the gateway for the arrival of lambs, foals, calves and kids. In my time here, I have gotten to know much more livestock than I ever imagined I would.

Now in addition to stacking turf or starting a fire in the range, my burgeoning skill set includes befriending donkeys and feeding cows. Not exactly resume builders but important and enjoyable nonetheless.

Thank You:

Many thanks to Anne for sharing your Irish tales with us here. I’m already looking forward to next month’s installment in her Irish adventures.

You can check out more of Anne’s writings on her website, or follow her on Twitter.

If you enjoyed this blog post, check out Anne Driscoll’s mini-memoir series, beginning with Irish You Were Here: My Year of Matchmaking Festivals, Fairy Forts and Mugging My Mugger in Ireland.

Irish You Were Here is for both the armchair traveler and active adventurer, the dreamers and the daredevils, the writers, poets and storytellers, and all the activists out there lead by their passions.

This is an Ireland you won’t read about in tour guides and it’s one you won’t soon forget. It’s for everyone who is Irish and for anyone who wished they were.

County Mayo is the setting for Des Garvin’s new book, Fields of Rye, based on the folklore and genealogy of Shrataggle and its surrounding villages.

Two hundred years of family histories are shared, including stories of the two prominent families in the area, the Garvins and the O’Malleys. Other family names from the area include the O’Tooles, the Dohertys, the Maddens, the McAndrews, the O’Boyles and the Kavanaghs.

A folklore section incorporates over 150 photographs collected from the area, many of which are extremely rare. And so today, I’m thrilled to publish a guest post by Mattie Lennon, introducing Des Garvin, the author and researcher of this important piece of Irish history and heritage….

Introducing Fields of Rye by Des Garvin

A Guest Post By Mattie Lennon.

Des Garvin was born and reared in the townland of Shrataggle, County Mayo. In his recently published book “Fields of Rye”, he uses Shrataggle as a blackboard to illustrate life in all of rural Ireland in the last century and before.

Des Garvin – Author of “Fields of Rye.”

Traditional music was always one of his passions and he has been a leading light in Comhaltas Ceoltoiri Eireannn for many decades. Involved in Peace Groups in Northern Ireland for thirty years his leadership ability became evident as a young teenager.

When Rural Electrification was introduced to his native heath, the Ground Rents proposed by the ESB was exorbitant.

He tells us…

“ . . . the ground rent on our house was calculated at £15 and that was payable every two months. Today, that is roughly the equivalent of €290, and it was extortion plain and simple.”

It was highly unlikely that any of Des’s neighbours would sign up. Out of economic necessity there were forced to say no. Tony Blair said that the art of leadership is to say no but Des wouldn’t agree.

The young boy from Strataggle convinced all and sundry to say “yes” despite the outrageous price quoted, “ at least until the lines arrived in the village.”

The result?

The ESB was left with no choice but to join the village to the network. As luck would have it, between the beginning of the project and the houses of Shrataggle being connected, the government of the day introduced a subsidy which reduced the ground rent to £2 every two months.

The island of Inishlyre, in Clew Bay, County Mayo, was only connected to the national grid in September 2000. Obviously they didn’t ever have a young Des Garvin living there!

An in-depth genealogical analysis of Garvins, O’Malleys, Cormacks, Gilroys and every other family that inhabited Des’s part of Mayo for centuries makes this book a collector’s item.

A photo gallery of 157 images contains pictures – including “ The Bridge at Shrataggle and Last Rick of Hay”- that would, otherwise, have been lost but are now moments frozen in time and recorded for posterity.

Catherine Garvin from Shrataggle:

97 year-old Catherine Garvin, from Shrataggle, has been living in New York since 1939. She educated herself and had a very successful career in the travel trade and later the legal and banking business.

She was one of 40 travel agents on board, in April 1958, when Aer Lingus introduced its trans-Atlantic service with the Seaboard Super Constellation.

A few months ago Des interviewed her for his book. She told him of how she attended secretarial school after arriving in New York and became proficient in shorthand and typing.

And . . . whether cutting turf in Mullach Padda Bhain or negotiating with people who were key figures in the Good Friday agreement, Des Garvin would leave no stone unturned . He gave the Shrataggle nonagenarian a sentence and asked her to reproduce it in Pitman shorthand . She produced the result, . . . in moments.”

Des Garvin at the book’s official launch.

The Garvin Family:

The author doesn’t go overboard in blowing the trumpet of his own family. Although he does point out that his aunt Anne, who worked as a cook in the Royal Victoria Club in Leeds, was responsible for introducing chips and Yorkshire pudding to Shrataggle.

Some years ago Councillor Joe Mellett, said of John Healy, that other great writer from Mayo :

“He’s a guy that we can associate with especially in bad times.

He made the rest of the country aware of what was happening then.”

The comment also describes Des Garvin. Wren-boys, Cillins, Missioners, blasting with gelignite , illicit distilling and travelling shows feature. It’s all there in this book.

In my working days Des was my boss for a number of years and am I glad that I didn’t ever cross swords with him.

What would be the point of taking on somebody who, when barely out of short trousers, convinced a stubborn rural community to take action against a semi- State body that would result in an 87% reduction in ground rents?

More Information About Fields of Rye:

There’s also a wonderful gallery of photos, giving us a glimpse of County Mayo and her people, both past and present.

A big thank you to Des and Mattie for sharing this wonderful book with us today. Recording our history at a local level is a vital endeavor, if future generations are to understand the depth of their unique heritage.

This Christmas Eve, I thought we might explore this tradition a little further to discover it’s origins and meaning.

A candle in the window is a wonderful symbol of hospitality, a trait for which the Irish are renowned the world over.

But these Irish candles burning in the windows were not simply a beacon of hope for the Holy Family. They were also a sign of welcome for anyone, friend or stranger, who might be passing by on Christmas Eve.

All were welcome to stay and share whatever an Irish family may have had for Christmas. The Irish believed nobody should go without, especially at Christmas time.

This tradition was most widely practiced in the south of Ireland, especially in Munster. Since my family hail from County Cork, we continued the ancient rural tradition of lighting a candle in the window at Christmas time.

The candle was traditionally lit by a daughter called “Mary” or the youngest girl in the house. “Mary” was also called upon to extinguish the candle.

Catholic churches were outlawed and priests hid in fear of their lives. They secretly said mass at secluded venues known as Mass Rocks. Priests often visited homes in secrecy to bless a family and to say Mass.

Irish Catholic families hoped that at some time in their lifetime a priest might visit on Christmas Eve to celebrate Mass with them.

By lighting a candle in the window they signaled to any passing priest that this was a Catholic home. The doors were unlocked allowing a priest to enter silently to join the family in prayer for Christmas.

Now all these lighted candles dotted across the countryside not only alerted priests in the vicinity, but also drew the attention of English soldiers.

The Irish needed to explain to the English authorities why they were lighting so many candles on Christmas Eve.

The rational that they were welcoming Mary and Joseph into their homes was a perfect solution. This Irish tradition or superstition was viewed as harmless by the English and created no undue alarm.

This tradition was born at a time of great upheaval for Irish Catholics. The need to signal a priest to our homes to say Mass may no longer exist, but I’m happy that we continue to light candles in the window to this very day, welcoming Mary and Joseph with open hearts.

One reader’s brother is a priest in Illinois, Msgr. Eric R. Barr, STL. He wrote a beautiful homily in 2010 called Candle Burning Warm, Candle Burning Bright, which tells the story of an Irish priest in Penal Times, and how this Irish candle lighting tradition began. You can read his Christmas story here – scroll down about half way in the page to find it.

And when I see lighted candles in the windows of American homes at Christmas, I know this Irish tradition crossed the Atlantic with our ancestors when they sought a welcome in a new land.

And so, whether you light a candle in the window this Christmas Eve, or simply light up your Christmas tree, I hope God’s spirit will reside within you as you pause and reflect upon the sacredness of this holiday.

Graveyard seats may seem an unusual topic for a blog post, but in today’s installment Irish writer Mattie Lennon explores the idea of adding seats to Irish cemeteries.

Graveyards, both old and new, are an integral feature not only of the Irish rural landscape, but are also painstakingly preserved and cherished amidst urban city sprawl. I believe Irish people feel a deep spiritual connection with the past by visiting graveyards. But I have never visited a cemetery in Ireland where seats are provided for loved ones to rest, contemplate and connect with the past.

Since graveyards are such powerful reminders of the importance of family and our ancestors, Mattie explores if it would be fitting for Irish graveyards to provide a place to sit beside our dearly departed….

Taphophiles and Graveyard Seats By Mattie Lennon:

“Personally I have no bone to pick with graveyards, I take the air there willingly, perhaps more willingly than elsewhere, when take the air I must.” ~ Mary Beckett

It would appear that people of a literary bent are fascinated by graveyards. And why wouldn’t they. One intellectual told me that the only place they can concentrate properly is in a cemetery. One friend of mine who is fairly handy with the pen but not so sure about the existence of a hereafter would spend all day in burial grounds. Being on holidays with him is a bit like being with the Bronte sisters. He has a good sense of humor and is not offended when I call him a “Tombstone Tourist.” Although he once informed me that the correct term for someone who loves cemeteries is “a taphophile.” He then went into pedantic mode and informed me that his interest is known as “graving.”

While I don’t fully share my friend’s penchant for burial grounds I have accompanied him on several “graving” trips. (On one occasion a gravedigger took a look at me and said, “It’s hardly worth your while going home.”) I found the experience most interesting and I can appreciate the peace and tranquility to be found there.

In his poem A Country Graveyard in County Kerry, Martin Delany captures it very well in the following stanza …

“I have been through this graveyard many times savouring

The withering flowers wafting in the wind, the weeding

Of old graves, the scent of mown grass on sun beamed days,

The laughter of men digging new highways to eternity.”

Thomas Gray described his surroundings in vivid detail in Elegy in a Country Churchyard. And while I have you, take a look at the line,

“The ploughman homeward plods his weary way.”

Now, have a go at juggling the words around. You may be even surprised at how many ways you can use those words while being grammatically correct and conveying the same message.

Graveyard Seat in Warsaw, Poland.

It is claimed by oneirologists that if you dream that you are standing, walking or sitting in a graveyard you can expect a peaceful, quiet and happy life. Standing and walking is no bother but our burial places don’t offer many places to sit. In many countries you will find seats in graveyards. In the Jewish cemetery, many graves have a seat at their foot, but in Ireland it is not the norm. There are of course some with seating, New Abbey Cemetery in Kilcullen, County Kildare and the Huguenot Cemetery in Dublin are examples , but they are the exception.

Recently, an applicant from Gortnagluggin, County Limerick, was refused permission to erect a seat close to their family plot in St. Ita’s graveyard, Killeady. On learning of this your humble scribe contacted every local authority on the island of Ireland. And guess what. The aforementioned was the only refusal for such a project in the last ten years.

Many Council representatives emphasied that they hadn’t ever refused permission for a cemetery seat. “Limerick You’re a Lady” how are ye.

There is no reason not to have more seating in Irish cemeteries. There is no legislation to prohibit the erection of seating provided it’s in a safe location.

I’m sure those who drafted the Rules and Regulations for the Regulation of Burial Grounds, in 1888, did not envisage the families of the deceased being deprived of an opportunity to sit down beside their loved ones.

Example of a polished granite bench suitable for a graveyard.

In most burial grounds in the UK, families are allowed to sponsor a memorial seat to be placed in the cemetery and planning permission is not required for this. The seat is only sponsored and therefore remains the property of the Cemetery.

Thank You Mattie:

I love Mattie’s stories, and I always learn something new from him. Today’s graveyard lesson expanded my vocabulary. I had never before heard of a taphophile or a oneirologist.

Now I’m at a stage in life where ….

I’m learning something new everyday,

all the while trying to remember

what it is I learned yesterday.

So for the next few days I’ll be asking myself, “what is it you call those dream experts?

And I might even dare say I am a taphophile. Previously I shared how graveyards remind me of Christmas. And I confess I continue to visit graveyards regularly in Ireland. I stroll around these outdoor historical archives, inhaling the fresh air and taking in the past.

Irish American Mom

I believe preserving the past for the future is a very important task, and today I’m delighted to introduce a rural heritage museum where Ireland’s past is treasured and shared.

Located just outside Bruff, County Limerick, Old Irish Ways is a folk heritage museum, where memorabilia from our past is lovingly restored and preserved.

Denis O’Connor, the founder of this wonderful museum started off with only a few precious pieces of vintage Irish treasures, but over the years he has gathered many more.

Today his collection of priceless keepsakes from Ireland’s past ranges into the thousands .

Denis’ goal is to recapture what life was like over 100 years ago, to give people a sense of how our forefathers lived. With items dating back as far as the 18th century, this exhibit truly spans the generations.

Here’s how Denis describes his museum on his website, Old Irish Ways ….

“Old Irish Ways is a collection of various artifacts and collectibles

which were used as part of everyday life

down through the years in an Ireland long past.

From the kitchen to the farmyard,

the collection built up by Denis over a number of years,

represents an Ireland of bygone days.”

Denis’ exhibits are for all of today’s generations to enjoy. Younger people see a collection of items from a bygone era, enlightening them about how diligently our forebears worked to survive.

But many of us will step through the doors of this amazing museum only to rekindle memories of days gone by.

Denis reports many visitors exclaim “I remember that” over and over again during a visit.

The Irish Cottage Kitchen:

The Irish cottage kitchen with a traditional open fire, for me, is an iconic symbol of my homeland. “Bean an tí” (pronounced ban-on-tee) or the woman of the house cared for the fire both day and night, those eternal flames vital for her labors and her rest.

The fire was not simply a means of heating the home, but the central hub of the household. Used for many tasks, the bean an tí baked breads, boiled bacon and root vegetables for her family, and simmered corn for animals. Sick animals were nursed in front of the fire.

My own granny used her hearth as a neonatal intensive care unit. When my uncle was born prematurely back in the 1930’s she wrapped him in swaddling clothes and hung him in a horse harness beside the fire to keep him warm. And he survived thanks to her ingenuity.

In the kitchen display at Old Irish Ways, Denis has recreated an old Irish family kitchen, including the dresser, an attractive yet functional piece of furniture. Decorative plates and china, cups, plates, coffeepots and jugs adorn the dresser.

At Old Irish Ways, papal pictures decorate the walls, together with the traditional Sacred Heart picture.

The Old Pub

Old Irish pubs were at the heart of Irish village life, many also incorporating a local shop.

Denis has gathered many commonly seen items from old pubs around the country and recreated his very own Irish pub where he now serves visitors a lovely cup of tea.

Here you will find vintage earthenware jars and beer bottles, an array of trays and bottle tops, water jugs and the famous Guinness timber barrel.

You can sit back on an old tractor seat high stool, sipping your tea and enjoying a chat, in this highly detailed Old Irish Bar.

Old Irish School:

School life in 20th century Ireland is recreated in the classroom exhibit. If you went to school in Ireland anytime upto the 1970’s, then the classroom at Old Irish Ways will bring back many memories.

Wooden desks stand beside the black board or chalk board as we say in America. The map of Ireland beckons on the wall and the desks are laid with old school books and workbooks.

The time spent in recreating this learning space from days gone by is clearly evident.

The Blacksmith’s Forge:

In days gone by the forge was a meeting place, where locals chatted and shared stories.

Politics of the day and the welfare of the local community often dominated the talk at an Irish Forge or “Smithy.” Plots and plans for rebellion were often forged at the forge.

A raised brick hearth or fireplace dominated the forge. Here, bars of iron were heated until yellow-hot. There was always a container of water to cool the iron. Heat permeated the air. The hammer hit the anvil and horses hooves were shod.

Typically the inside of the forge was very dark to allow the blacksmith see the variety of colors of the heated iron which indicated the temperature of the heated metal.

Thank You:

A big thank you to Denis and his family for all their wonderful work in preserving this important piece of Irish rural history. They are to be commended for their dedication, and commitment to preserving Ireland’s past.

This is a private museum and a labor of love for Denis and his family. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for kindling wonderful childhood memories. I really appreciate you giving me permission to share your lovely museum photos with my readers.

Next time I visit my family home in Kildorrery, County Cork, I’ll be sure to stop by for a chat and a cuppa tae in your Irish pub.